


i believe in anything that brings you back home to me

by worry



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, M/M, i.. hate myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7530328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worry/pseuds/worry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's never known anything like death before. Death and its hands have never touched Anatole, or anything that Anatole cares about.</p><p>(He picks up the body.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i believe in anything that brings you back home to me

 

"Anatole, my guns."

 

Dolokhov is going to kill him.

 

Rewind, a bit: Anatole and Dolokhov have been together since - the beginning of everything. Whatever-happened-to-create-the-universe. They've been together since God created the heavens and the earth and rested on the seventh day. They're inseparable.

 

They're inseparable, and Dolokhov is going to kill him.

 

Pierre isn't the brightest man in the world, and this has become increasingly evident. Dolokhov is going to  _kill_ him.

 

That can't happen, obviously. That can't happen. Pierre is his brother-in-law and a good man. Dolokhov is going to kill him. Dolokhov is going to _kill him._

 

"This is horribly stupid," Anatole says, and then: "No."

 

"I'm sorry?"

 

Dolokhov turns to him. "Anatole," he says, "what are you doing?"

 

"I will not get your guns. I'm not getting them for you."

 

"Then I'll get them myself—"

 

Anatole places a hand on Pierre's shoulder, holds him back. His fingers are trembling, which is a  _weakness,_ but Dolokhov is going to kill him and showing weakness doesn't matter at a time like this. It doesn't matter. It just doesn't _matter_.

 

"No," Anatole says. "You won't."

 

"Anatole, what the hell are you afraid of?" Dolokhov asks. He takes Anatole's hand away forcibly, and then their hands are just touching, like sorrow. In any other situation, their hands would touch and Anatole would feel something other than sorrow, something in-between  _love_ and  _anticipation,_ but right now it is different. Their hands are touching and Anatole only feels frightened.

 

"I don't know," Anatole admits, "I just don't want anything bad to happen."

 

"He  _challenged_ me. I can't just say no. You know that. You've always been by my side when I duel, why is it different now?"

 

"Because..."

 

He looks at Pierre. Pierre looks at him — there's an unreadable expression on his face.

 

"Okay, fine. Go ahead."

 

"Well, let's begin," Dolokhov says. His smile is sickening. "This is  _child's play._ "

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As the countdown starts Anatole's heart starts beating faster, and faster, and faster, and now  _Anatole_ is going to die, now  _Anatole_ will be the one dead, buried, gone. He tried to stop it. He  _tried._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dolokhov fires the first shot.

 

 

He misses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Dolokhov never misses. Anatole has been with him for lifetimes and Dolokhov has  _never_ missed.)

 

(There is something very wrong—)

 

"Pierre," Anatole says, "stand back."

 

Pierre moves closer.

 

(There is something  _very_ wrong—)

 

(with this situation—)

 

( B O O M —)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This can't be —

 

 

 

 

There's —

 

 

 

Blood, and —

 

 

 

 

Dolokhov is on the floor and —

 

 

 

Oh,  _God,_ he's on the floor and —

 

 

 

 

Pierre —

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Anatole," Hélène says. She takes his arm and tugs on it. " _Anatole._ "

 

"Yes?"

 

"Anatole, are you okay? You're not processing—"

 

 

 

Oh. Oh.  _Oh._

 

 

 

Dolokhov is on the floor because he is dead. He will never come back to life, not ever. He will never come back to make stupid jokes or keep Anatole from losing his mind. He will never come back to talk to Anatole he will never be able to say  _it's okay Anatole I'm here it's alright Anatole I'm here I'd do anything it's okay it's okay it's okay it's okay._

 

He's never known anything like death before. Death and its hands have never touched Anatole, or anything that Anatole cares about.

 

 

( _It's okay Anatole I'm here it's alright Anatole Anatole Anatole Anatole Anatole...)_

 

_( Anatole.)_

 

 

"Anatole?"

 

Anatole picks up the body — God, the  _body_ _—_ the  _body_ _— Dolokhov is gone and now he's just a body —_ and holds him (it) (God—) against his chest. Crying is a weakness. Everyone else in the club is watching him. There's silence. He  _hates_ silence. He holds Dolokhov and crying is a weakness but damn it, so was Dolokhov. He was another weakness, a bigger weakness. 

 

Anatole does not have weaknesses.

 

(He did, once.

 

But his weaknesses died.)

 

"Anatole, what's wrong?"

 

Pierre tries to say something like  _I'm sorry._ Pierre tries and Anatole hisses, "Get out of here before  _I_ kill  _you._ "

 

Hélène takes Pierre away.

 

Hélène takes Pierre away but Pierre will never be far enough. Pierre can't run. Pierre did this. Pierre  _killed him_ and now his best friend is just a body. An empty body. A carcass.

 

Gone, he thinks. Gone  **gone** gone  **gone** gone  **gone** gone  **gone.** Until  _gone_ doesn't feel like a word anymore and he moves onto the worst possible word:  _dead._

 

"What are you talking about?"

 

For a moment Anatole can almost hear him. For a moment Anatole thinks that he hears Dolokhov's voice, again. For a moment Anatole thinks that he feels Dolokhov's hands, again.

 

It's not real.

 

" _Anatole._ "

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Anatole?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Pierre killed me, didn't he?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Yes," Anatole says, for some reason, and then: "I'm so sorry."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Dolokhov's funeral consists of a grave, Anatole, and Hélène.

 

Dolokhov, from behind Anatole, says a prayer.

 

He touches Anatole, hugs Anatole, pulls him close. He whispers the prayer. He says: "I'm sorry."

 

He doesn't say  _I should have listened to you,_ despite the fact that it's the truth.

 

He just says  _I'm sorry_ and imagines a world in which Anatole can hear him.

 

* * *

 

 

(Years pass.

 

Anatole never forgets him.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please tell me what you think :0


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